Three Things About Elsie(84)

‘Did we? I don’t remember. I don’t remember any of this.’

‘You’ve just forgotten, Florence, that’s all.’

‘Remind me, then. Help me to remember, like you always do.’

She hesitated and her face searched for an explanation.

‘My mother,’ she said eventually. ‘Ronnie threatened to report her. Don’t you remember?’

I shook my head.

‘He said he’d shop her to the authorities if anyone went to the police. Get her sent to an asylum if we ever whispered a word about how Beryl died. We decided, the two of us,’ she said. ‘No one could help Beryl any more, so we protected my mother instead. She wouldn’t have lasted a minute locked away. It would have ended her.’

I looked at her across the sand, trying to find the words I needed. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to do that. How could Ronnie have got your mother committed?’

‘Florence, everyone knew she’d lost her mind. Everyone. But people turned a blind eye. If Ronnie reported her for the assault, and made it official, they would have had to do something. The people at the hospital were suspicious enough already with the injuries he had.’

‘But you let him get away with it,’ I said. ‘He should have been punished.’

‘Our word against his, you mean? You know what kind of places asylums were then. Filled with stink and misery. It was the right decision. It kept her with us, it kept her safe.’

‘How could you watch your own sister killed and keep quiet about it? How could you?’

‘I couldn’t lose them both,’ she shouted. ‘If I’d opened my mouth, I would have sacrificed my mother as well.’

We stood in silence, and the wind disappeared across the water, leaving us in a pocket of quiet.

‘I need you to find a forgiveness,’ she said. ‘And when you do, I need you to hold on to it, no matter what happens.’

‘I can’t remember any of this. Why do I always need you to remind me who I was?’

She started to answer, but the words disappeared back into her throat. Instead, she said, ‘What do you remember?’

‘I remember being at the dance,’ I said. ‘I remember the music, but we stopped listening to it.’

‘Why? Why did we stop?’

I tried to find my way back. ‘Because we were watching Beryl and Ronnie. They were arguing in the car park, and we were trying to listen through the glass.’

‘And?’

‘She stormed off. Beryl. Didn’t she? Off into the night.’

She nodded.

I turned to Elsie. ‘And I decided to go after her.’

‘I tried to stop you. I said it wasn’t your place to go.’

‘We were in the cloakroom. You said I’d freeze to death out there, but I wrapped myself up and I told you I’d be fine.’

‘You did.’ Elsie’s voice was a whisper, and it slipped into the sound of the sea and disappeared.

‘I can’t remember any more,’ I said. ‘You must have got into his car whilst I was out looking for her. You must have been the one who hammered on the car window and persuaded Ronnie to let you inside, thinking you’d find Beryl more quickly if you got Ronnie to take you.’

Elsie creased her eyes against the salt and the wind.

‘He would have had a drink, wouldn’t he?’ I said. ‘Careless, angry. Fast. Casual hands resting too lightly on the wheel. Eyes on the argument instead of the road. You would have said, “Watch what you’re doing, you’ll get us both killed,” but he’d have been too busy spitting out hate to take any notice. When you looked up and saw Beryl standing in the road, you’d have reached for the steering wheel. I know you’d have tried to swerve the car, because Ronnie hadn’t even seen her. I know you tried to save her, Elsie. I know you did.’

The words made me shake and I didn’t really know why.

‘The noise,’ I said. ‘It was the noise you couldn’t forget. I remember you telling me.’

‘You do?’ she said.

‘Afterwards,’ I said. ‘All of us in your kitchen. You, me and Ronnie, building the story between us, piece by piece. We were at the table, trying to work out what to do.’ I looked at her. ‘The scarf was there too, sitting in the middle. I could see where Gwen had dropped a stitch and rescued it again. Row after row of flawless work. You could only spot the mistakes if you knew where to look, but once you knew, it felt as though you would never be able to see anything else.’

‘You don’t have to remember, Florence. Some things are better left still.’

‘Oh, but I do.’ The memories were tumbling around, and I tried to catch them, before they all disappeared again. ‘You told me Ronnie stopped the car further up the road, he ran back to where Beryl lay on the verge. You stayed in the car. You couldn’t face it. It was fine, though, to stay in the car. It doesn’t make you any less of a person, does it?’

‘No, Florence. No it doesn’t,’ Elsie said.

‘The road was straight and measured. When you looked back, Ronnie was in the distance, caught in a smear of light from a winter moon. She’s gone. She’s definitely gone. That’s what Ronnie said, when he got back in the car. You would have found a phone box, otherwise. You would never have let her down if there was still a chance. You would have called an ambulance. The police.’